“That
trust thing is a bit difficult after all that's happened,” I
replied.

“Shane!”
the dark silhouette hollered. We both jumped, then Shane sighed and
waved. “Silvion, we're here!”

Silvion? How
did he find us?

The
large man clomped toward us, muttering something under his breath all
the time. When he reached us, he glanced us over and then engulfed us
in his brawny arms. Breathing became a real effort, but I didn't mind
too much. Here was someone who offered a moment of respite and
safety.

I let go of
Shane's hand and wrapped my arms around Silvion's neck. Without
hesitation, he slipped an arm underneath my ass and hoisted me up.
Closing my eyes, I rested my head on Silvion's broad shoulder, hoping
this was all a nightmare.

“Hold on,
kid,” Silvion rumbled.

I didn't even
lash out at him for calling me kid. Right this instance, the word kid
sounded great, as if someone else would take care of me and make sure
everything would be all right in the world again.

Silvion
secured my head with his free hand while I dug my fingers deeper into
his brown robe, remembering times when I was little and my father
carried me around after I'd hurt myself. At least I wasn't a sobbing
mess as I'd been as a kid. When I swallowed, there was a lump lodged
into my throat. I coughed to clear it, and tears welled up in my
eyes.

“Gil,
it's gonna be okay, we're out of the tunnels. We made it. We only
have to go back to the portal now. Do you hear me? This will all be
over soon.” Shane tugged at my ankle. I pulled my leg away. I
couldn't stand his touch. I couldn't stand this whole... thing
anymore.

Silvion
set me back on my feet. We were back in the forest, but dusk had
settled in, casting deep shadows around us. Leaves rustled in a gust
of breeze, and I clutched Silvion's arm to anchor me.

“Gil?
Sweetheart, come on, you've been so brave. I promise—”

“Stop
promising me stuff!” I shouted. Shaking, I lifted my gaze to look
at him. He held his arms stretched out toward me and wore a shocked
expression. I took a step backward, closer to Silvion, who seemed
rather uncomfortable.

The
silence that followed my outburst was unnerving. Eventually, Shane
lowered his arms and turned his back to me. That gesture sliced
through me like a stab with a knife. A small whimper escaped my
mouth. Shane's head shot up and his gaze seemed to penetrate me. I
couldn't take the first step, I just couldn't. I didn't even know
what I wanted anymore. Here he was, my Shane, risen from the dead or
something like that, and all I did was push him away.

Silvion
held on to my hand, then stepped toward Shane and snatched one of his
wrists as well. “You two better have a long talk when you're back.
Now, let's get you to the portal.” He added, “In silence.”

Neither of us
said a word as we struggled to keep up with Silvion's pace.

July 25, 2014

On the Coastal Bend of Texas, a hidden kingdom called Darkmore lies in ruins, and King Sevon Maraté is trapped. Using Sevon as a mouthpiece and a scapegoat, Lord Dominic rules from the shadows. Born of royal verkolai blood and as beautiful as he is lethal, Sevon possesses the ability to part the Veil separating his world from hundreds of others. His gift is his chance to escape, but Dominic refuses to relinquish his tool for power. Dominic forges an ambitious plan to invade the prosperous land of Priagust. Only a select few know the mythic kingdom of shifters exists. Sevon is out of options for his people’s survival, and cooperating with Dominic is his only chance.

On their foray into Priagust, Dominic's men kidnap and interrogate a shifter named Jack. Even under torture, Jack's loyalty to his kind never wavers. But as Jack’s knowledge about Darkmore’s king and its history unsettles Sevon, a curious bond begins to form. Despite Sevon’s mistrust, Jack is determined to tame Sevon’s wild heart and perhaps earn his freedom. As invasion looms, Sevon wonders if trusting Jack will lead him into another trap or if he should forget about chasing the sunrise and remain Dominic's compliant prisoner.

Available for purchase at

Excerpt

Jack shuddered against the cold bite of his
shackles. The iron cuffs held him upright, and his arms were stretched tight
over his head. Gravity pulled him sloping forward painfully against his bonds.
His umber hair swayed in sweat-slicked strands and clung to his face. The
humidity hung like milky fog visible against the gray stones. He could smell
the herbal traces of algae glazing the walls. No moans, no cries for release,
not even a rattled chain sounded throughout the dungeon. He deduced he was the
only prisoner—or the only one currently living.

It had happened so fast. He was at the shoreline of the lake when
two figures shot from the water. Shrouded in black, the demonic men yanked him
into the lake. Jack had expected his end. But he didn’t expect a dungeon, and
not just any, but Darkmore’s dungeon. He knew it as well as any ghost story. He
had teased Sevon mercilessly for crossing his fingers and turning in a circle
three times as he walked by the entrance.

Jack’s heart softened. Sevon, sweet Sevon. It had been exciting
for Jack when he was a cub to have a special friend outside of Priagust. One
who was not a shifter at all, but something different. He was Jack’s treasure,
and he would guard their memory.

But the men had taken him and tossed him in this dank cell. It had
to be a mistake. Darkmore was Priagust’s sworn protector. King Louis would
never wrongfully imprison a shifter. Jack spit a speck of grit. Was Louis
alive? Did he survive the storm? What of Anna Maria? Surely she’d know.

But Jack wasn’t sure. He had been just a child when he saw Louis
die, and all childhood memories were fallible. He could only hope it was a
misunderstanding. He squinted with the painful pull in his shoulders, and the
realization sank in. This was far more than a mere misunderstanding.

Jack’s pupils flexed into pinpricks when the sound of distant
footsteps announced someone’s approach. He jerked his chin toward the sound to
get the first look at his host.

An ethereal, earthbound spirit drifted into the dungeon. Pale as
Winter Mother’s snow and with a brilliant bloom of golden curls to rival Father
Sun’s rays, the woman captivated him. Dressed in layers of the midnight sky and
coal, her skirts swirled in a trail of goldfish fins behind her. The unusual
ladybird settled at the cell door, tossing a lock of spun gold over her
shoulder. She waited.

“What do they call you?” she coldly demanded.

A peculiar tenor tone in her voice made Jack choke on his breath. A man. The strange, colorful bird was a man.

By the way he glared at Jack as if he were of no consequence, Jack
decided that whatever the case, he had to be on guard. Jack sniffed and
mentally discerned a more masculine scent under the perfumed oils. But there
were two masculine scents, this beautiful man’s and someone else’s. He licked
the salt on his lip and smirked. He had nothing left to lose.

Jack lifted his head, and he panted against the searing pain in
his back. He focused on the curious little meadowlark shrouded in flimsy
frippery. He had never seen such an unusual hue of hair before, but he knew one
thing for certain.

“You’re not the king,” Jack said.

Something came over the strange man as he quirked his thin brow in
irritation. “Yes, I am the king,” he
growled in warning. “Your name, creature.”

Jack evaded the question and changed the subject. “The king of
Darkmore would never show a shifter such hostility,” he spat. “Go, little
meadowlark. Fetch him, now. You are of no concern.”

The supposed king recoiled on his booted heel as if he had been burned.

“Excuse me, you maggot?” he growled and his temper flared.

Jack squinted at him. He looked so much like Anna Maria, as Jack
remembered her. Perhaps her son? Perhaps Sevon? Jack swallowed. He had to keep
it to himself. He had to find out what he was dealing with first, if he
survived that long. He thought of his brother, Kaltag, back in Priagust,
probably wondering where he was and if Jack was still staring over the lake,
waiting for the day Sevon would appear.

Jack’s heart thumped.

“Louis is gone. I am the king now, and you will answer to me. My
sources tell me you’re a spy from the shifter land of Priagust,” he said. The
accusation did not bode well for Jack.

Jack took his stand against his captor. He strained against his
shackles and grinned through the searing pain in his shoulder blades. “Your
sources are clearly mistaken. I was only fishing when your men emerged from the
lake and tried to drown me. Which—” He glanced around, and his shackles
rattled. “This is some level of hell, correct?” Jack watched him, still
puzzling his way through recollections. It wasn’t possible he was Sevon. Why
would Sevon become this? He hissed a laugh and kept up a brave face. Jack
turned his gaze up. He smirked when the king leaned away from the hammered iron
bars of Jack’s cell in disgusted horror. “You are a very fussy bird. You’re no
more than a chick, peeping for nourishment.”

“You will answer my questions, shifter…. Or you will be forced to
answer them.”

“What kind of king do you think you are?” Jack asked. “Do you
understand the scope of what you are doing by holding me like a criminal?”

“Pardon me for not rolling out the red carpet and most lovely
courtesans,” he said sarcastically.

“A little bird that pecks. I like that.” Jack chuckled.

Crossing his willowy arms in irritation, the king nodded to the
stocky dungeon guard.

The guard loped forward on his gnarled legs and slipped the heavy
key in the iron padlock. With a protesting shrill, the bolt popped from its
moorings with a loud echoing clank.
The cell door swung open with an antiquated creak, and colorful bird of a man
slipped into the cell.

Jack’s heart thumped, and his face heated. It was Sevon. His Sevon. He had never been so sure. In
the twenty-two years between then and now, the boy Jack had so longed for no
longer existed. Confusion swirled through him, but Jack had to keep it within.
More parts of the puzzle would fall into place if he just gave it time.

His heart wouldn’t stop racing; all the while he maintained his
arrogant grin.

“I’d curtsey, but as you can see, I’m a little tied up,” Jack
apologized.

This new Sevon cocked his hip in irritation and snorted. “For a
vicious animal, you don’t look like much.”

The term hit Jack hard, but he wouldn’t cower.

“Funny.” Jack chuckled. “For a king, you present yourself quite a
bit like a whore.”

Before he could blink, Sevon was upon him. He yanked Jack by the
scruff of his hair, tilting his neck painfully backward on its stalk to meet
him eye to eye. Jack’s eyes rolled wildly to focus on the glacier blue of
Sevon’s. His scent stabbed into Jack’s nose, jabbing cruelly into his brain.
The delicate floral became an unrelenting assault on his mind and body. The
damning confirmation sank into Jack’s stomach. It was a matter of survival not
to show fascination or fear.

“Listen to me, you worthless shit-eating maggot!” Sevon snarled in
his face. “You don’t get to call me a whore! Do you understand? I will leave
you here to rot in this dank cell until even the rats find you too foul and
putrescent. You will be thankful we don’t outright kill you. You will be appreciative of your accommodations.”

Sevon relaxed his grip and his harsh tone eased. “You will be
eager to answer our questions. You will
make yourself very helpful. Or I will have you skinned alive and your flesh
made into jerky.” Sevon snorted a breath through his nose, and Jack’s hair
fluttered. The beautiful blond man smiled like a content feline. “Now, do we
have an understanding?”

Channeling the bravest parts of himself, and locking away the heartbreak,
Jack laughed with a crooked, toothy grin. If this was the game, then he would
play it until he was the last one standing. Finally, he had sorted the second
male scent, and his thoughts sparked with devious delight. “Did I ruffle your
feathers, meadowlark? Does the man
whose scent you’re slathered in get to ruffle more than your feathers?”

Sevon shoved him away with a wail of disgust. Jack’s head bounced
against his chest, and his manacles creaked at the added pressure. Sevon’s
offended squeal was the only warning as a hard, echoing slap cracked across
Jack’s cheek so forcefully that his vision blew out into whiteness for a
moment.

With several flustered breaths, Sevon sharply pivoted and then
stormed out of the cell. He nodded to the stocky guard. “Have him questioned
about the nature of his people and land. I don’t care how you do it, or to what
ends. Use any means necessary to milk him dry.”

The guard bobbed his head and bowed.

Turning back, Sevon regarded Jack one final time.

Jack noted the confusion mingled with a semblance of fascination.
He forced a smile through his blood-tinged teeth. “See you soon, Your Majesty,”
he purred.

Jack clung to a scrap of hope, and listened to the whispers of
Sevon’s skirts as he left Jack in the darkness.

The rats chittered.

About the Author

Lex Chase once heard Stephen King say in a commercial, “We’re all going to die, I’m just trying to make it a little more interesting.” She knew then she wanted to make the world a little more interesting too. Weaving tales of cinematic, sweeping adventure and epic love—and depending on how she feels that day—Lex sprinkles in high-speed chases, shower scenes, and more explosions than a Hollywood blockbuster. She loves tales of men who kiss as much as they kick ass. She believes if you’re going to going to march into the depths of hell, it better be beside the one you love.

Lex is a pop culture diva and her DVR is constantly backlogged. She wouldn't last five minutes without technology in the event of the apocalypse and has nightmares about refusing to leave her cats behind. She is incredibly sentimental, to the point that she gets choked up at holiday commercials. But like the lovers driven to extreme measures to get home for the holidays, Lex believes everyone deserves a happy ending. Lex also has a knack for sarcasm, never takes herself seriously, and has been nicknamed “The Next Alan Moore” by her friends for all the pain and suffering she inflicts on her characters. She is a Damned Yankee hailing from the frozen backwoods of Maine now residing in the burbs of Northwest Florida, where it could be 80F and she’d still be a popsicle.

She is grateful for and humbled by all the readers. She knows very well she wouldn't be here if it wasn't for them and welcomes feedback.

July 24, 2014

Centuries
after what should have been a blessing from a goddess, Mira has gone
from the chosen daughter to a woman shamed. She’s found a tentative
peace among her family and the females they’ve chosen to mate. And
despite the potentially fatal consequences, Mira has found the one
thing she never thought she’d have—love. Josh is the only male
she’s ever wanted, desired and burned for, and he’s the only man
she can never hope to keep.

One
glance into Mira’s exotic feline eyes and Josh is lost. She’s
everything he never knew he wanted and loving her becomes a passion
he can’t deny. The obstacles keeping them apart seem
insurmountable, but Josh knows he’s the man Mira needs. With every
passionate encounter, every stolen touch, his certainty that he and
Mira belong together grows. He’ll defy every shifter decree and
fight to his dying breath to convince those around them of the
truth—Mira belongs to him, mind, body and soul.

She
crawled across the uneven deck. The high window which probably sat
above the sink only had a valence over it. She wanted to get a good
look at the male so her cats could judge him. A foot from her
destination the board under her paw gave way.

The
human’s curses carried over his heavy footsteps as he ran toward
the back door. She pulled her leg out of the hole, ignoring the mud
between her toes, and fled for the safety of the tree line. The sound
of a rifle being cocked echoed through the night. In her jaguar’s
body, she leapt for the nearest tree and quickly climbed into the
limbs.

July 23, 2014

Welcome to
Wednesday Briefs, where authors post free fiction of 1000 words or
less each week. I used:
.“Here
we go again.”

Hope #39

Shane
nodded. He tugged me backward, deeper into the derelict castle,
whereas I pulled in the other direction, far away from the darkness.
A roar filled the air and I clapped my hands over my ears, then
everything around me moved at once.

Large
stones clattered to the ground, missing me only by sheer luck.
Smaller, sharp-edged stones hit me on my arms, neck, back, wherever.
Coughing, I strained against Shane's arm around my biceps. I needed
to get out of here. We
needed to get out of here.

A
whole wall to our right side blasted away, and the giant head of the
black dragon appeared. It threw its head back to scream in triumph. I
whimpered and froze. A moment later, Shane yanked and I fell against
his chest. He clamped his arm around my upper body and dragged me
with him. My feet barely touched the ground, and Shane's hold around
me made breathing difficult.

A
ball of flames erupted to our left side, charring the wall, and I
yelled in shock. The dragon clomped behind us, and more of the
structure of the derelict castle fell victim to its claws and roars.

Shane shoved
me into a small alcove, then spread his legs and arms, blocking the
entrance. Was he crazy?

“Shane!”
I shouted. The dragon lowered its head, almost to the ground, and
peered at Shane from his reptilian eyes. The urge to vomit rose
inside me and I blindly groped for Shane's shirt. In a whisper, I
asked, “Shane, please, what are you doing?”

Shane
didn't answer, but words that sounded like a chant flew over his
lips. A pale red light glowed at Shane's front, increasing in
intensity the longer Shane spoke. The dragon reared back and roared
before its head darted back, aimed right at Shane. I scrunched my
eyes shut and screamed.

Someone else
screamed as well. When I opened my eyes again, the dragon was
stamping back and forth, rubbing its snout on the scale-littered
ground, wailing.

Shane
expelled several long breaths, then let go of the entrance to our
little hiding place, which seemed to be covered with some sort of
reddish film. I asked, “What the hell is that?”

Shane
whirled around, grabbed my arms, and shook me. It was just one shake,
but it was enough to rattle me thoroughly. My heart was still
thundering from the dragon's attack, and having Shane's furious gaze
directed at me didn't help me to calm down. I expected him to yell,
but his voice was disturbingly low, when he said, “When I tell you
to run or go somewhere, you do as I say, is that understood?”

Absolutely.
So why did I snipe at him? “And if I don't, what are you going to
do?”

Shane's
body tensed, and for a moment he resembled a wild animal. One that
was ticked off and would start biting any second. One of his hands
wrapped around my neck, and he tugged me close for a brief but very
firm kiss. “Let's not find out, okay?”

I
nodded. Some things didn't need to be explored firsthand. I asked,
“What now?”

“Now,
we’ll go back the way we came and try for a different route, but
this time you'll do exactly as I say.” Shane's eyes gleamed, and
even if I'd still had a spark of resistance running through me, his
look erased any thought of opposition.

Shane
interlinked our hands, then used his free hand to rub over the
reddish cover, and it disappeared. The dragon was banging its head
against a crumbled wall somewhere in the south, still screeching
occasionally. I followed Shane and we dove back into the dark aisles.

“Here we go
again,” I muttered.

Shane
squeezed my hand and I fell quiet. Soon my eyes watered from the
intense stench, but I didn't voice my objection. After what seemed a
long time, a sliver of light illuminated the end of the tunnel.

“There!”
I said, pointing at the opening.

“I see it,”
Shane replied.

We
hurried along, but Shane skidded to a stop when a dark shadow blotted
the exit. I bit down on my lip to prevent myself from crying. Would
this ever end?

A search for missing unicorns reveals a Fate that Samuel has only dreamed of before.

When they first meet, Jordan takes Samuel’s breath away—but not in a
good way. Jordan knocks Samuel, a gatekeeper from a world called Eden,
flat on his ass. In Jordan’s defense, Samuel did freak him out,
appearing out of thin air the way he did. Luckily, the appearance of the
unicorns preempts a possible fight.
Relieved to have found Eden’s unicorns, Samuel is astonished that
Jordan knows about them, despite the fact that their horns have been
concealed by magic. Attempting to remove the halters that bind them,
Samuel is rendered unconscious.
The question now is how to get the unicorns back to Eden, as well as
solve the mystery of who has stolen them to begin with. But just maybe
Samuel and Jordan need to deal with this attraction between them that
seems to be growing by leaps and bounds. Are their feelings tied in with
the mystery of the unicorns?

July 14, 2014

Please help me welcome my friend MA Church back to the blog. She's here to talk about her new release Nighttime Promises.

~~~~~~~~~~

Are we alone in the
universe?

One of the most
widely asked questions you’ll hear today is “are we alone in the
universe?” News flash, folks—you’re in the minority if you
believe no intelligent life exists in the universe.

Scary, huh?

In the US alone,
at least half of all Americans believe we’re not alone in the
universe. Many of us staunchly believe there’s some form of life on
other planets. Even more say intelligent extraterrestrials have
already come to Earth.

And they believe
they’ve been doing so for a long time.

Okay, so why do
these people feel this way? Well, there are multiple reasons why the
extraterrestrial question continues to gain popularity. Here are just
a few:

1. The Size of
the Universe

Counting the stars
in the universe is like trying to count the number of sand grains on
a beach… it’s just not possible. Although estimates vary among
different experts, the general consensus is that there are at least
between 100 billion and 200 billion galaxies in our universe. Now,
think about that for a moment. That’s a lot of uncharted territory.

2. Whistle
Blowers

The past few years
have seen a surge of whistle-blowers that’ve come out and said some
remarkable things. The reality is hundreds of whistle-blowers
who have come forward have verified credentials and backgrounds.

3. The Evidence
of UFOs

Within the past few
years, dozens of governments admitted to allocating resources and
having programs to study the UFO phenomenon.

4. Mass
Mainstream Media Attention

Media outlets of all
kind are covering the topic, almost every movie that comes out these
days has something to do with space or some kind of extraterrestrial
intelligence. We’ve been bombarded with the topic for a while now,
so it’s not hard to see how it’s on the minds of many.

These are just a few
things to think about. So, what do you think? Are we alone in the
universe? Bryan and Shawn would tell you—quite loudly,
actually—that no, we are not, lol.

Nighttime Promises
is the end of the Nighttime series. The release date is July 11th.

The first time Daroshi spotted Bryan, the Maz’Rarian warrior knew
he wanted the small town sheriff as his mate. Things have been going
downhill since. Daroshi doesn’t have experience dealing with
humans, especially a very unhappy human male who’s just had his
well-planned life jerked out from under him. Little does Daroshi know
the changes Bryan will insist be made to help him adjust. But he also
never dreamed someone would actually try to kill his mate.

The shocks just keep coming for Sheriff Bryan Coltrane. Finding out
aliens exist was bad enough. Finding himself mated to one was
definitely not on his to-do list. Wait, what? Did someone say
tentacles? And if that’s not enough, a killer tried to poison him.
Added to his misery, now he’s on his way to another planet—a
planet that he hates on sight. How’s he supposed to survive in such
a cold, ugly industrialized world? Can you take the country out of
the boy without killing his spirit?

As Bryan struggles to adapt, a killer plots to end his new life...
before it even begins.

The stress of the
past few weeks sure caught up with him—saying he was gaunt was
putting it nicely. His sapphire blue eyes were sunken in his head and
the laugh lines around his eyes slashed deeper into his face. The
dark circles didn’t help matters, either. God, he looked like he
had two black eyes. The skin was that nasty bruise color and puffy.

And were there
more than a few strands of gray in his dark hair now? At age
thirty-four this was ridiculous. That’s what stress would do,
though, and this was about as stressful a situation as he’d ever
been in. Bryan sighed. The poisoning deal scared him; he could have
died. Should have died, actually. Someone was after his ass and they
didn’t know whom. On top of that, they were hurtling through space
toward a planet he’d soon be calling home. With an alien.

Yeah, stressful.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Things have got to get—”

“Bryan!”

Bryan flinched at
the roar from the other room. Damn, do these aliens know how to do
anything other than yell?

“Where are you?
Bryan? Bryan! By the stars, answer me!”

A loud crash
echoed into the bathroom.

“Oh, for God’s
sake.” Bryan shook his head. What the hell was Daroshi doing out
there? Tearing Medical apart looking for him? Did Daroshi think he’d…
what? Run away? Where was there to run? Besides, he had someone
trying to kill him. He damn sure wasn’t going to go wandering the
halls alone.

“Bryan!”

“I’m in here,
Daroshi.”

Daroshi slammed
into the bathroom area, chest heaving and tentacles writhing on his
back. Jesus, he looked fierce. “What are you doing?”

Daroshi leaned
against the doorframe, the rise and fall of his chest slowing. “I’m
not even going to ask what this ‘checkers’ means. Bryan, the
medibed stopped monitoring your stats. The low beeping noise ceased.
I woke up thinking there was something wrong, and instead I find
you’re… You weren’t there.”

“Aw, man, I
didn’t think. I had to use the bathroom and… What are you
doing?” Bryan grabbed hold of Daroshi’s shoulders as his feet
left the ground.

Daroshi hoisted
Bryan into his arms, growling loudly even as a tentacle snaked across
one massive shoulder to pet Bryan. “I’m taking you back to the
medibed. You know, it’s that thing that monitors your body’s
systems. You were poisoned and shouldn’t be up. Do you understand
how serious this is?”

Huh, sarcasm.
“Since I was the one poisoned I’d have to say that yeah, I get
it.” Bryan rested his head against Daroshi’s neck. Good thing he
already went to the bathroom. “Wow, is that your best bedside
manner? Because I have to tell you, it leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Waking up and
finding you missing left a lot to be desired.” Daroshi gently
lowered Bryan back down onto the medibed. “Do not do that again.”

The snappy retort
was right there, burning to get out, but Bryan swallowed it as
Shawn’s words about how this race was warrior-like and not exactly
known for their compassion echoed in his head. Well, except for when
they found their mate. Then they’d give their very lives to protect
the one they claimed.

Shawn told him
they refused to admit to an emotion called fear. Training bred it out
of them at an early age. If any Maz’Rarian showed such an emotion,
it would result in getting them killed, usually by another of their
species. They were a brutal race.

And he scared
Daroshi, really scared him. “I’m sorry, Daroshi. Next time I’ll
let you know. It’s just… You were asleep and I didn’t want to
wake you.”

“Wake me. We
don’t need the same amount of rest as humans.”

Which proved his
point. Daroshi was so tired he fell asleep at Bryan’s bedside.
Bryan also knew better than to point that out.

July 13, 2014

Hello, everyone! I’m Lex Chase and thank you Chris for having me here today for kick off to the Chasing Sunrise BlogTour!
Chasing Sunrise is a story I've been meaning to tell for years. It's a paranormal urban fantasy with my take on vampires and shifters, but at its core it's a story about domestic violence. The main character, Sevon, is desperate to escape a lifelong abusive relationship and find love on his own terms and learn he is worthy of being loved. As a domestic violence survivor, I hope it resonates with readers.
But let's talk about Sevon for a minute. That's indeed him on the cover there. And nono. That isn't a woman on the cover. That's a guy. Promise!
Sevon is a full-time transvestite who wears elaborate gowns, corsets, jewelry and has long spiraling blond curls. He's that guy that you have to stand two feet in front of him, squint, and puzzle out if you're just looking at a flat-chested woman. That is until he speaks were he has a quite obvious young man's voice.
When writing about Sevon, I keep a Pinterest board of the gowns he'd wear. But of course, the board is filled with blonde women modeling the clothes. I had resigned myself for years I'd never find a model that resembled the Sevon that lived in my head.

Enter Danila Kovalev

Seriously. That's a guy.

I am not making this up. That's a guy.

And he models as a woman.

And we can just all go home now.

While people always bring up the equally lovely Andre Pejic, Danila is the epitome of Sevon. I had always resigned that Sevon never existed as an honest to goodness human being, so I would draw him myself, or commission friends.
The reasoning behind Sevon's crossdressing ways actually mimics Eddie Izzard's history of discovering women's clothing. Eddie actually knew at seven years old he had a preference for dressing like a girl. Sevon knew when he was ten and chose crossdressing as his armor and shield against the horrific abuse he endured. If he dressed "prim and proper" no one could hurt him, and he found the confidence within to hold his emotions in check when his world was collapsing.
With Reese Dante as my cover artist she had recreated Sevon perfectly. And the poor model she had Photoshopped to hell and back.
I had shown the stock model to a friend, and he asked "He was the basis?" and I explained, "No dude, that's really the model!" My friend was impressed at Reese's artistry. He's been confused for an actress on Battlestar Galactica and even my doctor told me he looks just like her daughter. And he does. We laughed about it.
I had told Reese when she sent me the cover concepts, I had burst into tears. Sevon, my Sevon, the guy that only lived in my head was now a real living, breathing, human being.

On the Coastal Bend of Texas, a hidden kingdom called Darkmore lies in ruins, and King Sevon Maraté is trapped. Using Sevon as a mouthpiece and a scapegoat, Lord Dominic rules from the shadows. Born of royal verkolai blood and as beautiful as he is lethal, Sevon possesses the ability to part the Veil separating his world from hundreds of others. His gift is his chance to escape, but Dominic refuses to relinquish his tool for power. Dominic forges an ambitious plan to invade the prosperous land of Priagust. Only a select few know the mythic kingdom of shifters exists. Sevon is out of options for his people’s survival, and cooperating with Dominic is his only chance.

On their foray into Priagust, Dominic's men kidnap and interrogate a shifter named Jack. Even under torture, Jack's loyalty to his kind never wavers. But as Jack’s knowledge about Darkmore’s king and its history unsettles Sevon, a curious bond begins to form. Despite Sevon’s mistrust, Jack is determined to tame Sevon’s wild heart and perhaps earn his freedom. As invasion looms, Sevon wonders if trusting Jack will lead him into another trap or if he should forget about chasing the sunrise and remain Dominic's compliant prisoner.

100% of the presale royalties of this book will go to Los Angeles Gay and Lesbian Center's Domestic Violence Service.

Chasing Sunrise Excerpt

The chill of the metal bucket
had long since numbed Sevon’s hands. He took another breath. He had
to do this. He had no choice but to go through with it. He bit his
lip and mentally repeated Jack was the enemy, Jack was just like any
other man. Jack was a man who preyed upon men like him. Jack intended
to kill him.

Jack was the enemy.

Jack was the enemy.

Jack was the enemy.

Sevon upended the bucket of ice
water over Jack’s sleeping head.

Jack coughed and sputtered,
consciousness returned to him in a hard-hitting rush. His shackles
rattled and creaked. Sevon waited patiently as Jack fought the
unrelenting wave of temperature shock. Jack turned his soggy head
upward and looked at him. Sevon fought to keep his expression cold as
Jack chuckled in a shuddering laugh. He croaked hoarsely, “Well, if
it isn’t the little meadowlark….”

Sevon considered his set of
tools on the small wooden table. They were well maintained in
comparison to Dominic’s set. Dominic had them made just for Sevon’s
boyish hands and gave them the royal touch with studs of diamonds,
sapphires, and inlaid with filigree.

It’s just a game,
Sevon reminded himself. The object of the game was for him to appear
more intimidating than Jack. The intimidation part commonly worked.
Sevon had never had to draw blood in exchange for the truth before.
Dominic made it look easy. Easy but horrific. This time, it was
different. This time, the creature had tried to kill him, and when he
searched his mind, Sevon found only a foggy void where the incident
would be—and a sense of desire.

The idea sickened him.

Sevon had to make himself the
bigger monster. He had to be ready for what came next. He couldn’t
make his heart stop racing. Sevon’s fingers glided over his
instruments, trying to decide what to try first. The
pliers? Maybe not. The razors and salt? Too soon for that. The flask
of mercury? Oh, come now, he’s no good to the kingdom dead!
Possibly the skewers are the best choice. Yes.

Sevon delicately rolled a metal
skewer between his fingertips. “We’re going to have a little
chat. The more you cooperate, the more you get into my good graces,”
he purred.

Jack laughed against the rawness
in his throat. “Your lover’s poor excuse for sadists already had
a round on me. I think I made one of them cry…. I’d have to
apologize about the nose of the other.”

Sevon regarded his prisoner
coolly and gathered three skewers. “Broke his nose, did you?” he
asked, as if they were discussing the weather. If he could keep his
thoughts disassociated from what was unfolding, Sevon would get
through this momentary unpleasantness.

Jack spat out a lock of greasy
hair and grinned. He looked up at Sevon, the blackened blood of an
aisa
caked around his mouth. “More like bit it off,” he said, adding
his observation, “You creatures taste like fermented clay. Thanks
for the water. I needed a drink.”

Sevon maintained his aloof air,
but his stomach lurched at the state of Jack’s appearance. Old
bruises had faded and were overlaid with new ones that, despite the
size of the marks, didn’t appear terribly severe. Old blood, sweat,
and grime painted trailing fingers down his wiry body. They had done
away with his clothing as well as his dignity in the dungeon. While
bound in chains, he had no place to relive himself save where he
stood. They had treated him like a beast. A mongrel that only
deserved beatings.

Sevon knew that sensation all
too well. He knew this cell intimately. Dominic was taunting him by
putting Jack in the very cell where Sevon was sent to be taught
obedience. Sevon blinked away his concern, despite the bile rising in
his throat. He forced himself not to pay attention to the smell of
filth.

Sevon considered where to apply
the skewers first. The toenails seemed like a good idea. After all,
Dominic had done it to him months ago as part of his training
regimen. Dominic had wanted to teach him a better appreciation of the
prisoner’s pain. As Sevon observed Jack’s roughly callused foot
and thick toenails, his own toes flexed in his boot at the hazy
memory of agony. Sevon wasn’t sure about shifter physiology; maybe
it would get a reaction, maybe it wouldn’t. Losing a toenail was
bound to ruin anyone’s year.

“What happened in Priagust,
Jack?” Sevon asked the foot.

Jack feebly tried to jerk his
foot out of Sevon’s reach. “By Diana, do we really have to be
like this?” Jack whined as Sevon tapped the skewer into position.

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About the Author:
Lex Chase once heard Stephen King say in a commercial, “We’re all going to die, I’m just trying to make it a little more interesting.” She knew then she wanted to make the world a little more interesting.

Weaving tales of cinematic, sweeping adventure, epic love—and depending on how she feels that day—Lex sprinkles in high-speed chases, shower scenes, and more explosions than a Hollywood blockbuster. She loves tales of men who kiss as much as they kick ass. She believes if you’re going to going to march into the depths of hell, it better be beside the one you love.

Lex is a pop culture diva and her DVR is constantly backlogged. She wouldn’t last five minutes without technology in the event of the apocalypse and has nightmares about refusing to leave her cats behind. She is incredibly sentimental, to the point that she gets choked up at holiday commercials. But like the lovers driven to extreme measures to get home for the holidays, Lex believes everyone deserves a happy ending.

Lex also has a knack for sarcasm, never takes herself seriously, and has been nicknamed “The Next Alan Moore” by her friends for all the pain and suffering she inflicts on her characters. She is a Damned Yankee hailing from the frozen backwoods of Maine residing in the ’burbs of Northwest Florida where it could be 80F and she’d be a popsicle.

She is grateful and humbled for all the readers. She knows very well she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them and welcomes feedback.